What The Sorting Hat Knew
by Annikaya
Summary: The Sorting Hat never makes a mistake. So why was Peter Pettigrew put into Gryffindor?
1. Default Chapter

Harry Potter does not belong to me and I make no profit off of this story.

The Sorting Hat knew.

_The mousy looking eleven year old jumped skittishly when his name was called and then looked around nervously. Annoyed with the wait and anxious for her own turn, the girl behind him gave him a light shove, propelling him forward. Sitting up on the high stool, his feet dangling and the hat riding down over his eyes he looked like he was about to be swallowed up. It was quiet in the Great Hall for a long moment while the hat conversed with itself, making the oh-so-important choice. Then, mind made up, the hat opened its mouth and shouted out in ringing tones._

"_Gryffindor!"_

"_That's a small one. I'll have to make sure he doesn't get lost." Minerva McGonagall said softly to her friend and Headmaster beside her._

"_I'm sure he has great hidden potential Minerva. He is, after all, a Gryffindor." Albus Dumbledore replied._

_And for the rest of his school days at the great institute of learning known as Hogwarts, that is what he would be known as. The boy who surely had some hidden value._

_He was, after all, a Gryffindor._

Please review! It makes me happy and a happy me is a good thing.


	2. Chapter 2

"Say Peter, what do you want to be when you grow up?" Sirius Black asked, leaning back lazily and watching the stars. They'd all snuck out of the dormitory under James' cloak and were up in the Astronomy tower, for once not planning any pranks.  
  
"I dunno. Haven't thought about it. What about you?" Peter had his back up against the wall and was using a piece of straw that had somehow made its way up there to push at the dirt in the cracks between the flagstones.  
  
"I'll be an auror of course. I'll chase down notorious criminals and young women will tearfully thank me for keeping them safe." He threw a hand dramatically over his heart with a comic expression.  
  
James snorted in amusement. "As if. We'll see how many beautiful women are swooning over you when I'm playing Quidditch for them."  
  
Sirius sat up, a mischievous look in his eye. "Want to make a bet of it Jamie?"  
  
"Don't call me that. And as for bets, I'll remind you that I'm the only one who's got a girlfriend right now." The last was said with a teasing punch on the other's shoulder and a pride and affection that always entered his voice when he spoke of a certain redheaded female.  
  
"What about you Remus?" Peter spoke up.  
  
The other turned his gaze away from his contemplation of his ancient runes textbook that he was studying for the next day's upcoming test. "I think it would be nice to teach actually. What greater use for knowledge is there than to share it?"  
  
James shook his head. "I always knew you were crazy. You want to stay here and end up like that Binns?"  
  
Sirius snatched the textbook off of his friend's lap. "We need to get you away from this stuff. It's corrupting you into Mr. No-Fun."  
  
Remus reached for his book back but Sirius held it out of reach, swinging it tauntingly. "Give it back Sirius. You know I have to know this stuff if you're going to try to copy my homework again."  
  
"Oh, alright."  
  
"Thank you." The book back safely, Remus turned back to Peter. "So, how about it Peter? Not even any possibilities, crazy dreams, enjoyable hobbies that you might think of doing when you're older?" Everyone had those.  
  
Peter shrugged helplessly. "No clue." He looked awfully small and unsure now, worried that he might grow up and still have no idea what he wanted to do.  
  
Remus saw this and smiled reassuringly at the smaller boy. "I wouldn't worry about it. We've still got plenty of time to think about these things. I'm sure you'll find something wonderfully exciting to do."  
  
He was, after all, a Marauder. 


	3. Chapter Three

"Pettigrew!" The name was spat with a savagery and fury that seemed foreign from the mouth of Sirius Black.  
  
The young man turned to face the danger. He knew what was going to happen but he was still pale and nervous, his hands clenching tightly to his wand. He didn't say anything, didn't really know what to say.  
  
"I'm going to kill you!" Sirius' face was twisted with grief and betrayal and a lost look that said more clearly than words that his life had just tumbled down around his knees and he didn't know why.  
  
"Is that the new way you treat friends Sirius? Kill them?" He knew how his words would sound later. Clear damning evidence for a crime someone would figure out the way he wanted and pin on one Sirius Black.  
  
"You were Lily and James' friend too Peter. And you're a rat! A dirty lying bastard of a rat!" And he drew his wand.  
  
"Don't do it Sirius. Please, you don't have to do this."  
  
But the wand was already out and then there was a loud explosion and smoke obscured everything. When it cleared all that was left was a street full of dead muggles, Peter's severed finger, and a stunned Sirius Black. Sick with shock and horror and completely overwhelmed, broken hysterical laughter filled the silent street. Sirius Black knew that Peter was still alive. He had planned this, was sneaky and devious.  
  
He was, after all, a rat. 


	4. Chapter Four

"The poor boy. Oh, the poor, poor boy." Minerva McGonagall wiped her teary eyes. "I should have seen it. He always was more gentle than that brute he hung out with." Her gaze fell to the simple long box that was being put into the ground.  
  
Remus Lupin said nothing, his face haggard and drawn. The only remaining piece of his last friend was being laid to rest. He was alone with the memories of childhood laughter ringing hauntingly in his ears.  
  
"He was brave." He heard himself say. And then, "A Gryffindor." It had been years since school but it felt right. Everyone had always wondered when the tiny little boy would roar like the lion he was supposed to be.  
  
"The Sorting Hat doesn't make mistakes." Dumbledore said gravely. Whatever magic power kept his ancient age at bay failed this day as he looked down at the box that held one of his students, one of the children he had looked after and called his own.  
  
Bravery and self-sacrifice, he thought. The traits of a hero, a martyr. A Gryffindor. How strange that Sirius Black should be from the same House, swearing vengeance on Peter Pettigrew still.  
  
He was, after all, a dead man. 


	5. Chapter 5

The man crept through the dark dankness stealthily, avoiding the commanding powerful presence of Lucius Malfoy or the silken dagger of Severus Snape. That was how he lived, trying his best to avoid those more powerful than himself, those that could crush him.  
  
Peter was a man who worked above all else to survive-that was why he'd allied himself with the Dark Lord in the first place. He'd known back during Voldemort's first rise to power, with the body count rising steadily higher and the wizarding world unable to anticipate or react fast enough. He had realized that no one could protect him but the devil himself. It had been so easy to save his own skin too. All he had needed to do was turn over someone else's skin. And he'd been so afraid, so young and terrified.  
  
He pushed those thoughts out of his head as he made his unseen way down to the cells in the basement of his master's lair. One couldn't dwell on such thoughts if one wanted to survive.  
  
"Pettigrew!"  
  
He turned, swiftly and nervously, to see the dark seductiveness of Bellatrix Lestrange.  
  
"Y-yes?" He cowered. He was good at cowering. It was a clever trick that kept him alive, everyone knowing they had power over him. And he was one of the master's. It made everyone think twice before they tried anything on him.  
  
Of course, Bellatrix wouldn't care about that. She was crazy, wild with cruelty and vicious bloodlust that the Dark Lord found attractive and praised her for. She was unpredictable and fierce and dangerous.  
  
Those dark eyes of hers studied him intently, her full lips pursed consideringly. Peter was afraid and took a step back, closer to the wall. She smirked and licked her lips, enjoying Peter's obvious discomfort.  
  
"Have you seen Malfoy?"  
  
"No."  
  
She looked disappointed but there was still a maniacal gleam in her eye. "Oh well. If you see him, tell him I'm looking for him." She turned to continue past him on the stair.  
  
Peter breathed an inaudible sigh of relief.  
  
"Oh, and Peter?"  
  
"Y-y-yes Bellatrix?" he exaggerated his stutter.  
  
"You stink, you foul little man." And she bared her teeth and laughed before she disappeared up the stair.  
  
Peter stood still for a long moment, looking around nervously before he scurried away, frowning unhappily all the while. He didn't like Bellatrix, or Malfoy, or Snape but he might have liked Bellatrix the least. She was a danger to his life and Peter wanted obsessively to survive.  
  
He was, after all, a rat. 


	6. Chapter 6

The cells, a dungeon really, was dark and cold and damp. It were mostly for show and because every good castle had one. Of course, the evil lair of the world's worst dark wizard had to have a dungeon. It wouldn't have been right without one.  
  
Occasionally one of Voldemort's followers had to spend the night in one of the cells, a minor punishment for minor transgressions. Sometimes there were prisoners but very rarely.  
  
Voldemort liked to kill his victims, not imprison them.  
  
The first cell on the right was empty, the barred door standing open on rusty wet hinges. There was a puddle of fetid water in the back corner and the straw was moldy and smelled bad. There wasn't any window slit in this cell, the only light coming from the hallway. What light did come in didn't improve the contents of the cell any.  
  
Regardless, Peter slipped into the cell and withdrew his wand. With a muttered incantation a chest in the corner suddenly became visible and he pulled out an invisibility cloak. It was amazing the things one could pilfer off of the Death Eaters Voldemort found unsatisfactory.  
  
With a flourish and the whisper of cloth, Peter was suddenly gone from eyesight. With a stealth born of a dangerous life style and an innate paranoia, he exited the cell. Keeping to the walls he passed down the long hall of empty cells until he reached one that wasn't.  
  
This cell was better than the one he'd pulled his cloak from, but only marginally. There was no giant pool of water taking up half the floor space, although the walls were shiny with slime and ichor. Sitting in the middle of the floor with his robe pulled up to avoid the disgusting surroundings, the boy sat in exhaustion. Even captured and afraid, facing certain death, he still retained a touch of defiance and an unbroken will.  
  
Peter looked around again quickly, making sure that there was no one around. If there was, he was surely dead.  
  
"Potter!" He whispered.  
  
The boy looked up, green eyes startled and curious.  
  
Peter pulled a bit of the cloak away so Harry could see his face. "I'm going to let you out this cell but you have to find your own way out."  
  
Harry opened his mouth to say something but stopped, clearly unsure. He had never expected his parents' betrayer to help him.  
  
"I'll need my wand." He said after moment's thought.  
  
Peter pulled out the boy's wand and handed it to him, then used his own to unlock the cell.  
  
Harry creaked open the door slowly, trying not to make any noise. Peter pulled the cloak back over his face and stood there, looking for any hint of an approach.  
  
The dark haired boy with Lily's eyes paused in the open door to his cell. "You're going to be in a lot of trouble if they find out you helped me."  
  
Peter didn't say anything. He just watched as Harry went up the stairs, his wand held ready and determination etched into his every feature. He knew the boy had it in him, had at least a tiny hope of a chance. He knew the trouble he had caused and the consequences. He laughed to himself. Consequences? Who cared about those when there was daring mischief to be had?  
  
He was, after all, a Marauder. 


	7. Chapter 7

He had returned the cloak and was doing his best to look like he'd been busy and faithful all along when he heard the noise. He knew immediately what it was.

The sound of dueling.

He knew he should walk away, just keep going and pretend he never heard anything at all. That would be the smart thing to do. It was the sort of thing that anyone with any sense of self-preservation would do.

But Peter also knew that if he had heard those tell-tale sounds, others would have as well. He saw again the face of the boy in his mind, the child of James Potter and Lily Evans. He thought of what they had sacrificed for their child and what they would have done. What James or Sirius or Remus would have done. But he was not James or Sirius or Remus. He was Peter. Peter Pettigrew, the weak, the rat, the betrayer, the Death Eater.

He went up the stairs and saw his fellows rushing toward the battle, determined to come to their lord's aid and interrupt the fight. Peter knew what would happen then. Harry Potter would be overwhelmed.

Peter made his unhurried way to a secret panel he knew and pushed it, letting the rock wall slide away. It was a hallway only he knew of, having ferreted it out only through his animagus form.

When he stepped out the other end of the short hallway, he stood before the open doorway to Voldemort's chambers. He could see blasts of curses and spells being exchanged but he was more concerned about the converging Death Eaters that he could see coming in a storm of thundering feet and swirling black robes.

"Pettigrew! Stop that boy!" Bellatrix shrieked her Amazon cry.

Avery Knott saw the expression on Peter's face, guessed at its meaning, but was too late. He fell to Peter's wand. Then Goyle and Crabbe and Nix and Pierce.

Bellatrix' face was a seething furious thing as she ducked the curse intended for her. It was an expression that brought Peter great satisfaction.

Behind him he could still hear Harry Potter's strong young voice shouting out. He still lived. Peter would do his part to ensure that.

Those Death Eaters who had once thought Peter to be a weak coward and no threat, pushed on, coming at him. There were a lot more of them than of him. And he knew the outcome of this battle as he could never predict the outcome of the one being fought behind him.

He wasn't surprised when they pushed him back through the doorway into the room with his former master and the one he had sworn to himself to protect. I make my stand here, he thought. I cannot retreat. They cannot pass me.

He killed Morris and Barron and Connolly, Heatherton, Dodge, and Tyers. Their bodies fell in crumpled heaps to the floor, a mess of limbs and robes and hair.

But where was Bellatrix?

He'd gotten so caught up in the fight that somehow he hadn't noticed what had become of her except that he knew he hadn't killed her.

So where was she?

He ducked curses and dodged several Avada Kedavras, all the while trying to look for her. Trying to spot her unbound midnight hair, hear her wild gleefully shrieked curses.

He mopped futilely at the blood that kept pouring into his eyes from the cut on his forehead. He couldn't dodge every curse and he knew he was beginning to weaken, beginning to slow down. He knew it would be fatal.

And that was when he spotted her, wand raised and pointed at Harry Potter's back.

Triumphantly she shouted the spell that would tear the boy limb from limb.

"NO!"

And Peter threw himself into the way of the spell, seeing Harry's wide shocked green eyes, seeing the spark there that said he would not loose, seeing a promise about to be fulfilled.

He accepted the pain gratefully, felt his labored breathing and his heart trembling in his chest like a frightened rat. He felt his body go numb around him and the sounds start swimming in his head until they didn't make sense anymore. But he didn't regret it. He wasn't afraid. His heart gave one final breathy sigh and fell quiet. He had been brave and loyal and finally roared.

He was, after all, a Gryffindor.

_Please review! It helps me become a better writer by knowing what you like and don't like. And, of course, it makes me happy!_


End file.
